


And They Were ROOMMATES.

by Epi_girl, JamieTheNerd



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Humour, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, The whole squip squad lives together, This is basically a Friends au, and the deh kids are their neighbors, specifically relationships, thats basically it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-04 19:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epi_girl/pseuds/Epi_girl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieTheNerd/pseuds/JamieTheNerd
Summary: "Michael, Jeremy barricaded himself in Rich's bedroom AGAIN, and we need you to talk him out...""Jesus, is that the sixth time this month?"Life is messy, complicated, and no one is ready for it. Especially not these eight.





	1. The One Where Michael Moves In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's long distance friend Michael moves in with him and his three roommates. Rich nearly burns his apartment down.

Jeremy really wasn't expecting the phone to ring.

He'd just been sitting on the couch, turning the pages of some garbage novel, but not really reading it, the inane chatter of his roommates accompanied by the familiar clicking of Jenna's phone, when a sharp sound rang through the apartment.

"Heere, get the phone!" Jake's muffled voice came through the door, quickly accompanied quickly by another sweep of his broom, and a quiet cry of frustration. He snorted softly. Cleaning.

Hopping to his feet, Jeremy moved towards the kitchen, snatching the phone off the slightly cracked granite countertop, answering it with practiced ease and a bored "Hello?" 

Something to add to the list of surprises, the voice that came through the receiver belonged to Michael Mell.

*

"So we're getting _another_ roommate? Why didn't you run this by us?" Jenna's voice was flat, tinged with anger as she crossed her arms. Ohhh god. He's screwed.

"Look, he's an old friend! He just finished college, and... don't you all remember how much it sucked to be stranded in the world alone after you've just gotten what will most likely be a completely useless degree because you're never gonna get the job you wanted?"

A general chorus of "no" arose.

"Wait, what?"

A short pause occurred, Christine looking up at him, dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry, did any of you even _go_ to college?"

"Yeah, the entire thing was basically a party with occasional learning thrown in there. Lots of sex." The nonchalant tone of voice somehow made that even worse.

Jenna furrowed her eyebrows, staring up at the tallest of them with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Jake... Jake, buddy, I think you've got something else you're thinking of."

"No, I don't..."

Jeremy shook his head, eyes squeezed shut momentarily. "Getting off track here, geez. Anyway, he needs somewhere to stay for at least a bit. And, y'know, Cafe Diem's been looking for a waiter! He can get a job, chip in for rent..." Trailing off, he glanced at the other three pleadingly, biting the inside of his cheek. 

Jake let out a soft, drawn out sigh, tipping his head back briefly to stare at the blotch of pudding Christine had somehow gotten on the ceiling, before looking back down with a calm expression and half lidded eyes. "Fine."

"Jake said it's fine! That's final! We're getting a new roommate!" Jeremy lept into the air, grinning from ear to ear. Even Jenna cracked a small smile.

*

"Okayokayokay he's coming, hee's coming, Micheal's coming--"

"I heard something about an orgasm?"

"I... no, Jenna."

A scoff. "That's boring."

Jeremy put a hand on his hip, gesturing in disbelief at the girl in question, her attention already reverted back to her phone screen. A smirk spread over her face as a familiar text tone echoed through the apartment. Gossip. Again.

A knock from outside shook him out of it, causing him to jump in surprise, whipping around to face the faded red door.

"Ooh, a few more inches and you could do high jump! I can just see it now... Jeremiah Heere, part time Olympic athlete and full time anxious mess." "Uncalled for, Chloe."

Jeremy began to reach for the doorknob, freezing halfway through the motion. "Chloe? When did you get here?"

She snorted, leaning back against the grey recliner sitting in the corner. "I've been here all morning. Are you really that oblivious?"

"Yes I am, but that is not the point!" He took a deep, shaky breath, flapping his hands slightly to calm himself. "An old friend who I haven't seen in person for years is coming to live with us today! I just don't wanna mess it up. We used to be really close! We'd get stoned in his basement all the time... anyway." 

Christine raised an eyebrow. "You smoked weed?"

Jeremy sighed. "Ye-- wait, Michael's _here_! What am I doing?" He whipped around, pulling open the door with a small smile, the expression becoming more genuine as he looked up at his only friend from high school. "Hey man!"

Michael squeaked out a greeting, bouncing on the balls of his feet as a nervous smile spread across hi face, quickly blurting out a hurried "someone's smoke dectector is going off" and rushing into the apartment, immediately greeted by Christine, a lazy wave coming from Chloe in the corner, and a nonchalant 'hey' from Jake. Even Jenna glanced away from her phone.

"Wait for it..."

Barely anyone was able to get a word in edgewise as Michael glanced up at the ceiling, asking quietly about the brown splotch of pudding, Christine's mouth running a mile a minute.

"Any second now...."

"How do you even do that?" "I was messing around with my spoon!" "And you got chocolate pudding on the 7 foot high ceiling?" "It was a plastic spoon!" 

"Aaaand..."

The sound of shoes slamming against the floor began to be audible, increasing in volume until Rich skidded in the door--

"JAKE, HOLY SHIT, THE STOVE IS ON FIRE!"

"Right on time."

*

Michael couldn't help but wonder what he'd gotten himself into.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just sort of introductory. There'll be more to the other chapters.
> 
> I hope you liked it!


	2. The One With Frozen Yogurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets aquatinted with his new roommates and begins to question his choices. Brooke takes Jeremy out to Pinkberry in order to talk about his unresolved feelings for Christine, who just so happens to be dating Jake.

As Michael sat silently at the kitchen table, unnaturally large pastel mug of steaming black coffee cupped in his calloused palms, (he hadn't slept well in any sense of the word) Christine waltzed into the living room, straightening blankets and fluffing pillows left and right, humming a soft tune that Michael recognized as _Hellfire_ , from _The Hunchback of Notre Dame._

He did a double take, ashen face twitching in amusement as coffee sloshed in his mug.

As Christine lifted a small strip of sheer fabric into the air, twirling it about with a serene smile on her face, Jenna stormed into the living room with a grimace, eyes not fixed on her phone for once. Small miracles.

"She's been humming those infernal songs for days! Do you understand me? _DAYS_! I can't take anymore of this happy go lucky, _follow your dreams and marry a prince_ shit _!"_  The taller girl hissed, moving closer and closer to him as Christine continued to spin, giggling a song,  sneaker-clad feet knocking slightly against the legs of the furniture. 

"Hellfire isn't exactly happy go lucky." Said Michael, face and voice full of a strange blend of cocky sarcasm, and his earnest opinion.

Jenna looked down at him in disgust, retreating back to her room with a resigned slump of her broad shoulders.

Christine was still singing. _I'll Make A Man Out Of You_ , now.

Seemed oddly appropriate.

His coffee scorched against his lips and tongue as he swallowed the bitter liquid, smirking to himself as clatter and bang after clatter and bang suddenly erupted from the room he thought belonged to Jeremy. 

The aforementioned boy stumbled out of his room, as disheveled as though he'd just had sex. 

_Is that what he looked like after sex?_

Michael assumed so, as a joking whistle (Jenna being the culprit, because of course she was) followed him out the door, his already crimson face only made darker by the offending sound. It was kind of adorable.

\--And then Michael proceeded to dump half the contents of his mug out on his shirt with a shriek of pain as a painfully loud exclamation of " _FUCK_ " rang through the small apartment, courtesy of one Jake Dillinger. Great acoustics. 

Living here was already proving to be a wild ride.

*

 As Jeremy slammed shut the door to the apartment, his face burned. Stupid shelving unit. Stupid tiny screw. Stupid bad IKEA instructions. Stupid--

Anyway.

He moved down the hall in a cautious manner, always afraid that someone would come out of nowhere though he knew, logically, that no one ever came to their floor. His converse moved over the worn green carpet, the same colour as the walls (Rich once said it looked like a cat vomited grass all over everything. He wasn't wrong.) the way they had a million times before.

He was relived, once he knocked on the familiar door, soft brown wood adorned by two golden numbers, that Brooke opened it almost immediately, yellow cardigan draped low over her arms, sleepy smile on her face, bad over her shoulder, and phone in hand. She looked like a warrior, sort of, poised for battle.

He almost snorted. What war would Brooke fight? A war on exorbitant beverage prices? 

"Let's go."

He nodded, face still aflame with embarrassment. 

*

Jeremy and Brooke were unlikely friends. 

At first, when she, Chloe, and Rich moved in across the hall, he hadn't bothered to learn anything, really. He'd never been good around girls, even ones he had no attraction to whatsoever.

But when frequent outings with Rich and Jake forced Brooke and Jeremy along for the ride, (apparently the two were highschool friends) they began to relaize they were fairly compatible.

They both liked vintage things, video games for him and clothes for her, neither one really liked talking to people, neither of them was good at making friends, and finally, they managed to bond over a shared love of cardigans. Jeremy wore them out of necessity and insecurity, whereas the knit yellow  sweater was a trend Brooke never grew out of.

Compatible in the sense of friendship. Brooke was a lesbian.

Jeremy laughed quietly as he sat in the passengers seat of what he was fairly certain was his friend's mother's car, limp, brown mess of hair flapping and winding itself together in the wind. Jesus, his head looked like a birds nest.

He could have vomited or screamed or both when the car suddenly lurched to a halt, his body being flung carelessly forward against the seat as Brooke hopped out of the car.

"What?" She called in her usual soft voice, when he didn't climb out of the sleek vehicle.

"I do believe my soul was just wrenched from my body..."

"What?"

"Let's have frozen yogurt!"

* 

Jeremy stabbed at the small pile of wintergreen flavoured yogurt in his bowl, head resting on his slim hand as he poked the slowly melting substance with his spoon, reluctant and withdrawn as a stark contrast to Brooke, warm and outgoing, ready to talk as she swallowed spoonful after spoonful of cherry yogurt. Who could blame her? Pinkberry was delicious.

When you weren't dreading an inevitable, pointless conversation about a stupid little crush.

On someone else's girlfriend.

"So..." Brooke started, raising an eyebrow, aware that Jeremy will know and take the cue despite how very little she said. They're alike. They know each other. It was nice, usually but not when your friend literally prompts you to start talking about a crush you've had for years on your _roommate's girlfriend._

"My life is a soap opera." Jeremy groans, head tipped back in the glossy, red, plastic chair.

Brooke's calm face twisted slightly in sympathy as she laid a hand on one of her friend's forearms.

"Oh honey." She smiled wryly. "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not funny, so this is a hard fic to write.
> 
> That said, I'm sorry this chapter took so long! I wanted to actually do something to get stuff going, so some of the romance and hints at it have been introduced! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	3. The One Where Michael and Christine Are Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uno, auditions and socializing

“Rich you're a good friend and I don't want to-”  


“Draw four.”  


“MOTHERFUCKER!”  


Ah, yes. Uno. The game of the gods.  


It was no secret that things got very, very heated when it came to Uno in the Heere/Dillinger/Canigula/Rolan/Lohst/Valentine/Goranski/Mell household, but usually Jake’s screeching came later into the night.  


Michael apparently picked the wrong time to walk into the living room.  


“Jesus Christ.” He muttered, raising an eyebrow at the sight in front of him. Jake was angrily mumbling swears as he took from the pile in the center of the table, Rich was practically cackling, Jenna was silently looking over her cards strategizing like the fate of the world was at stake, Chloe was shooting death glares at Jeremy, who had skipped her two turns prior, Jeremy looked like he's honestly scared for his life, and Brooke isn't playing, but instead sitting between Chloe and Jeremy trying to assure him that Chloe won't _actually_ murder him, which only seemed to fuel Chloe’s rage even more.  


“Uno night.” Christine pointed out, brushing past him as she made her way towards the door. “As much as I'd love to join you guys, I have an audition to go to.”  


“Aww, break a leg, Christine!” Jeremy cheered with a small wave. “Yo, Michael. Want me to deal you in?”  


A chorus of ‘no’s followed from the rest of the group, leading to some very LOUD arguments of how he would have an unfair advantage.  


“As inviting as that sounds,” Michael broke through the yelling, rolling his eyes. “I gotta blast too, I'm on the tech crew.”  


A simultaneous sigh of relief swept through the room, as Michael followed Christine towards the door.  


“Well then break a leg too! Break both legs!”  


“Power tool safety with Jeremiah Heere.” 

*

This was a mistake.  


Michael had never been an overly social person, and most likely never will be, at least not for a while, and he had no idea why his brain told him this was a good idea, but here he was. He took a deep breath, pushing the door open to where they were supposed to meet and mentally preparing himself to be a social catastrophe for the next hour or so.  


He could practically feel everyone’s eyes on him as he entered the room quietly and sat in one of the metal folding chairs arranged in a semi-circle.  


“You new?” The kid next to him asked, one eyebrow raised. Short and chubby, with dark brown hair swept to one side and round glasses, this kid was the image of a stereotypical nerd. Maybe just add some braces or something though and-  


“Hellooooo? Are you deaf?”  
The _shit, say something_ alarms in his brain started blaring, forcing him to nod and stutter out an awkward “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”  


The other kid glanced away, leaving an uncomfortable silence between them.  


This was gonna be a fucking blast.

*

Christine was about to take the phrase “break a leg” literally. Just not her own legs.  


She normally loved play rehearsal, then again, she normally didn't have a bitch as shallow, self-centered and petty as Heather Chandler to compete with.  


“Alright! Well, here we are! So many new faces!” The director cheered, overly peppy and loud. “As you all probably know, you'll all be auditioning for a role in Shakespeare's, A 

Midsummer Night’s Dream. I'll trust that you all know how the audition process works, and if not then, well what are you doing here!”  


It was obviously a joke, yet three of the small number of a whopping fifteen people that were there left the auditorium. Christine swore she say the cheery woman’s eye twitch. “Alright! We’ll be auditioning in alphabetical order, so…” She glanced at the clipboard of names in her hand. “Miss Canigula has the stage! Everyone else, please take a seat.”  


The small crowd of students moved off of the stage, sitting down in the chairs of the empty auditorium.  


“Hi, my name is Christine and I'll be auditioning for the role of Titania.” Christine did her typical introduction, one that she'd spoken so many times it was permanently engraved into her brain.  


The director nodded. “Whenever you're ready.”  


Christine smiled, standing up a little straighter and getting herself into character. “These are the forgeries of jealousy: And never, since the middle summer's spring, met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, by paved fountain or by rushy brook, or in the beached margent of the sea,” Christine glanced out at the director, who seemed to be nodding along with her words. “to dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, but with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, as in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea contagious fogs; which fallen in the land-”  


Heather cleared her throat from a row toward the back of the group, and _loudly._ “Excuse me, miss? I believe the right words are ‘which have falling in the land’.”  


The woman’s smile wavered, if only for a second, before forcibly returning. “Thank you, Heather, but please keep your comments to yourself until after Christine has finished her audition.” She turned back to Christine, smile still evident. “Continue when you're ready, miss Canigula.”  


So, she continued. She kept up her act and then finished, taking a seat with the rest of the group.  


Two can play at that game.

*

“Alright, so these are the plans for the set design. It’ll be pretty solid as long as they don’t cut our budget-”  


“Wait, wouldn’t that collapse under any kind of contact?”  


“Well, we don’t exactly have any other option, _Michael_.”  


The way this kid, who he now knew as Jared Kleinman, said his name made it sound like some kind of insult. Well damn, first day and you’re already making enemies. Good job, Michael.  


“Actually,” Michael cut him off before he could continue saying something. “If we add another support beam here-”  


“We can’t afford-”  


“Instead of here,” Michael continued despite the interruption. “it would stabilize the entire structure.”  


A few hums of agreement came from around the room, making Jared fume. “Fine. Well, that’s all the fucking time we have folks. Go home and jerk off or some shit.”

Everyone went to grab their shit, and Michael trudged out to his PT Cruiser in the parking lot. Well that could have gone worse. 

* 

Heather went right after Christine, and she’d be damned before she lost the role to her of all people. 

She started reciting her lines, memorized flawlessly and delivered perfectly. 

Christine, ever so innocently, puffed out her cheeks and crossed her eyes, totally not trying to distract the demon that was currently on stage. 

Heather stuttered slightly, hesitating over a few of the words, shooting a brief death glare at Christine. She tilted her head to the side innocently in response, sticking her tongue out. 

“Can you tell her to stop?!” Heather broke character, pointing at the other girl who instantly straightened herself when the director turned around. 

“Stop what?” She answered dumbly. 

“Please, Heather. Continue.” 

The red-clad girl fumed, continuing her lines until the end. She left the stage, sitting back down. 

Christine stayed through the others’ auditions, before finally getting the all-clear to leave the auditorium. 

* 

Michael got in the car, stopping to pick up Christine on the way home. 

“How was it?” He asked as the seemingly exhausted girl as she got into the car, sinking into the passenger seat. 

“Rage-inducing.” 

“Rage-inducing to _you_ of all people? God, I can’t imagine.” 

“You wouldn’t want to.” 

The two let out a mutual sigh, exchanging a tired smile between them.


	4. The One With The Merengues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine and Jake go on a date. Jeremy stress bakes.

Practically trudging back to their apartment in unspoken silence, Michael and Christine pushed open the cheaply polished wooden door to find Jeremy standing in the kitchen, covered in flour from head to toe, deep red blush visible even through the layers of white powder, Jenna and Jake laughing hysterically as they struggled to breathe.

“Don’t do drugs, kids.” Michael mumbled, followed by a snort from Christine.

Jeremy burst into tears.

*

It seemed as though he was never going to live that down.

Brooke hopped around the living room, grinning almost sadistically, cardigan bouncing around her arms as she sang-- well, screamed, at the top of her lungs.

“D- I WON’T DO DRUGS, A- WON’T HAVE AN ATTITUDE, R- I WILL RESPECT MYSELF, AND E- I WILL EDUCATE ME-- DARE! D-”

Jeremy curled in on himself, Michael coughing into his sleeve in an (ineffective) attempt to mask his laughter.

  
This went on for several minutes until Jenna eventually hurled her phone at Brooke in a fit of rage, causing her to run out of the apartment, terrified, Chloe in close pursuit.

*

A week later, Jeremy found himself curled on the sofa again, a soft grey hoodie that was too big for him draped over his slim frame, clutching the cuffs in his hands and chewing on the drawstrings he stared blankly across the living room at the TV. He couldn't help wishing for the chaos the apartment was usually filled with. His head was abuzz with thoughts, all consuming and near painful to bear. He wanted a distraction more than anything.

Unfortunately, with Christine and Jake on a date, Michael working on the set for a play, and Jenna out doing… something, he'd have to make one himself.

Decisions. Ew.

Sighing quietly, as though someone might wake up if he were too loud, Jeremy moved languidly to his feet. The apartment felt so big when he was alone. And he felt so small in comparison. It… wasn't a nice feeling.

That was putting it lightly.

Slouched over and nestled into his hoodie, Jeremy made his way into the kitchen, freeing his hands from the long, baggy sleeves when he reached the fridge.

Time for a distraction.

*

The low buzz of mindless chatter filled the air around Jake and Christine, occasionally strengthened by the clattering of a fork against the floor or a sharp wail from an unhappy baby.

Leaning forwards to get a better look at her boyfriend of 6 months, Christine smiled, leg bouncing under the table as she smoothed down her mismatched outfit of a yellow, cocktail style dress, and a worn jean jacket. Her green converse swung back and forth lazily as she decided the leg bounce was getting old.

“How are you doing?” Jake’s voice cut through the haze, clear and confident as always, despite the terrible attempt at small talk. She giggled, reaching forwards to fiddle with his shirt collar.

“Pretty good! I mean, it's kinda loud in here and I think that lady next to us is crying and I don't like  
when people cry, it makes me sad because I don't want them to be sad-- but other than that I'm just fine! The decorations in here are pretty cool and…. am I talking too much?”

Jake sat, stunned, for about a split second, before shaking his head imperceptibly and responding with a low chuckle.

“Sweetheart, you could never.”

Christine perked up immediately, grinning from ear to ear in that adorably childish manner she had, fingers drumming on the table as she leaned her head in one hand.

“Oh! Good! Well then, I watched a musical recently and I really really loved it! It was about-”

Jake smiled. They'd be here a while.

And he really didn't mind.

*

Jeremy stood in the kitchen once again, the loose sleeves of his too-large hoodie rolled up over his elbows. A wooden spoon was clutched in his left hand as he slipped on an oven mitt, brows knit in concentration. He all but flung the door open, the shrill sound of a timer still ringing through the empty apartment. Sliding a lone sheet of chocolate chip cookies from the oven, heat pulsing out from it and onto his arm, Jeremy kicked the glass and metal door shut, setting the tray down on a counter to cool.

As he turned back to a half-mixed bowl of egg whites, almost every surface around him adorned by some sort of sweet treat, Jeremy sighed. This was silly. Baking because he was stressed? How dumb is that?

Whatever. Time to make some goddamn merengues.

*

Christine could talk for a long time.

The couple had long since gotten their food, (grilled cheese for Christine, spaghetti for Jake) but somehow, the short girl was still going, talking on and on about the complexities of the characters in some musical Jake couldn't even recall the name of, beaming the whole time as she made wild, expressive gestures with her hands. He could have sworn a plane crashed twice, based on his girlfriend’s sweeping movements and… excited sound effects.

“Your sandwich is gonna get cold.”

She paused, eyes going wide.

“Oh no.” She whispered under her breath, face draining slightly of colour, looking as though she'd just been told her dog had died of a drug overdose or something. Shut up, similes are hard.

Jake had to bite back a laugh at the sight, one hand reaching up to cover his mouth as Christine stared forlornly down at her plate.

*

Leaning back against the counter with a soft, relaxed girl on his face, hoodie dusted with sugar and smeared in a few places with food colouring and a few chunks of butter, Jeremy sighed, turning around to squirt tiny swirls of thick, pink frosting onto a small tray of tiny cupcakes, tongue poking out from between his lips ever so slightly in concentration.

The timer went off again, this time for the merengues.

He nearly jumped 3 feet in the air, yelping in terror-- “What the FUCK”-- icing shooting all over the counter as his hands tightened around the bag.

“Goddamnit.” He whispered as soon as he'd calmed down, staring hopelessly at the mess of pink streaks on the polished rock countertop.

Crouching down to pull open the oven door with a frustrated muttering of “alarms are the spawn of satan”, the lanky boy slipped a tray of white, oval shaped things off of a slightly charred rack.

...Rich was gonna think this was cocaine, wasn't he?

  
Jeremy was so absorbed in his baking that he didn't hear the telltale pattern of out-of-sync footsteps moving up the hallway. Not the muffled sound of quiet but irritated voices wafting through the thin walls of the building. He didn't even get the infamously loud click of the apartment’s front door as it swung open, revealing two figures in the entranceway.

The quiet chatter fell silent.

Jeremy turned around, humming, only to come face to face with Michael, eyes widened slightly, lips parted in surprise, and an unfamiliar, shorter person, wearing a worn graphic tee underneath an unbuttoned, purple shirt, a pair of shorts, and an extremely judgemental pair of eyes peering up at Jeremy through thick rimmed glasses.

The tray in his hands clattered to the floor, bits of shattered merengue skittering across the tile floor.

Oh.

“Who the fuck are you?” The stranger asked, arms crossing in a vaguely threatening manner.

Oh shit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took waaaaay too long to get out, I am so sorry.
> 
> Also, you can probably tell I wrote angst a lot more than I do humour or fluff. My inexperience is showing a bit in this chapter.
> 
> (Spot the DEH reference)
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked it!


	5. The One With Jared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaa!  
> New chapter y'all.  
> Sorry, I know this hasn't been updating as frequently, (mostly due to my inability to write things efficiently) but I SWEAR WE'RE TRYING!!  
> Sorry this one's short and has no plot but I guess???? Enjoy bros

It really, _really_ took longer than it should have for Michael to intervene, prompting him to introduce the stranger that he now considers he probably should have warned Jeremy about beforehand. 

“Right, um, Jeremy! This is Jared, one of our neighbors. We're on the tech crew together and all that.” He explained, vaguely gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “Jared, this is Jeremy, my player two and my roommate! Along with the other three gremlins.” 

“Jake is a fucking giant.” Jenna chimed in, emerging from her room at the sounds of people who don't live here and a suspicious lack of screaming, even if Jeremy looks like he's about to. 

“Right, well.” Michael, again, takes it upon himself to do introductions, gesturing to Jenna. “Jenna Rolan, she knows everything about everyone. And has blackmail on _everyone_. It's scary.” 

“Well good, she doesn't have shit on me yet-” 

“I know about you and Stoner McBeanpole last New Years.” Jenna interrupted, glancing down at her phone briefly before turning it off and sliding it back into her pocket. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?” 

“These walls are thin, y’know.” 

“Like I said, everyone.” Michael breathed a brief, unsteady sigh of relief, glancing up at Jeremy, still standing in the middle of the kitchen surrounded with merengues. 

The scrawny, pale kid eventually overcame the various alarm bells of ‘SHIT SHIT SOCIAL INTERACTION I WAS NOT PREPARED FUCK’ going off in his brain and reached down to get the pan off the ground and placing it on the counter, picking up a few of the products of his stress-induced baking spree as Jenna and Jared exchanged banter and moved along to talk of some dumb meme that he could normally have joined in on. 

Michael noticed the obvious panic, moving towards the anxious boy to help him clean up before Jake probably murders them and mouthing a brief “I'm sorry.” 

Jeremy shakes his head, half smiling in a way that wasn't nearly as genuine as he'd hoped. 

“Yo, we're back bitche-” Jake opens the door, his voice trailing off at the sight in front of him. Christine followed soon after, taking in the sight of Jeremy and Michael making a lot of awkward eye contact with hands full of merengues, and Jenna and someone they don't know cackling loudly at some video Jenna was playing on her phone. Definitely not the weirdest thing they've ever walked in on. 

Jared glanced up, half-waving and replying with a brief, “Sup.” 

“Sup indeed.” Jake answered, followed quickly by an enthusiastic wave from Christine. 

“Okay, so.” Michael set his pile of merengues on the pan, gesturing towards Jake and Christine, then to Jared. “Alright. Jared, this is Jake and Christine. Jake and Christine. Got it? Got it? Cool.” 

Michael caught Jared's eyes scanning around the room, settling on Jeremy and driving the already alarmed kids eyes’ anxiety up the wall. 

“I'm sorry, are you mute or something?” Jared finally speaks up with the raise of an eyebrow. “Jeremy, right? You haven't said a thing.” 

Jeremy's posture hunches, and he shrinks back. He can't handle this. He wasn't ready. 

Michael, on the other hand, is going to flip. He feels the usually dormant anger in the bottom of his chest start to stir, like stray sparks hitting dry grass ready to be lit to flames. 

He opens his mouth to say something, to fire back at him in the name of his player two, but he's interrupted by a loud crash from down the hall. 

Another thump against the thin drywall, and then a painfully loud “FUCK!” from what sounds like Rich. Well fuck.


End file.
